


Sound of Coming Down

by natlet



Category: due South
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-12
Updated: 2006-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlet/pseuds/natlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vecchio pays a visit to the Fraser household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound of Coming Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [getfraserlaid](http://community.livejournal.com/getfraserlaid).  
> Prompt: _143\. Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio - post-apocalyptic 'only people above the treeline survived the bomb' thing._  
> Without Izzybeth I would have quit a long time ago. Title stolen from [The Long Winters](http://thelongwinters.com).

The snow was rock-solid and cold even through the rubber soles of his boots. For a second he thought he was going to lose it, just lose his shit and run screaming back toward the helicopter, fall on his knees and start begging the big guy in the flannel and the dirty jeans to take him back to civilization. He spent another second formulating a fantasy in which he, upon his return to Chicago, stomped and raged until every single person responsible for this, from Stella to the Canadians all the way up to Welsh, apologized for sending him up here to freeze to death.

Everyone had been acting like they were doing something real nice for him, but Ray was inclined to argue. He didn't think he had been any more irritable than usual lately. Had no idea what Stella was talking about when she said he was acting petulant, because he wasn't. But here he was, packed off to the Great White North with barely so much as an extra pair of socks, everyone smiling real big and calling it a "Vacation."

They should've just said something, he thought bitterly. I can take a hint. All they had to do was say something, if they're this sick of me.

But Stella had kissed him real sweet as she handed him a suitcase and packed him off to the airport, so he figured he'd suck it up, go on vacation for a while. Ray thought it might be nice to get out of the city for a while. He hefted his bag and the helicopter went whump-whump-whump behind him and he felt his goddamn turncoat feet slip out from under him and he was falling.

Fantastic, he thought mildly. Perfect. He caught himself on his elbow and tried not to wince, letting himself down gently. He watched the helicopter float up like a balloon, jerk off to the side and head back, and he waved at it.

-

He'd been on a snowmobile for three hours and a horse for two but boom, there was Fraser, big like a head wound in the middle of all that white, and Ray forgot for a second, forgot about everything and just fixed on Fraser, down on one knee talking to his sled dogs. Of course. He hollered "Benny!" and flung his arms in the air, started waving like a madman before he even thought about it. Fraser looked up and waved back, and the dog he thought must be Dief was barking and jumping around like he'd gone crazy, and Ray decided right then and there that there was nothing in this world capable of dragging him back to Chicago, not a goddamn thing.

-

He rocked slowly on Fraser's chair, shifting his weight, keeping his brain nice and clear of anything but the clunk-clunk of the chair's legs. Right front, left rear, right front, left rear. His eyes were fixed steadily on the top left corner of a photo of Fraser's dad, and he was studiously ignoring the little blond punk puttering around Fraser's kitchen, touching Fraser's coffee pot, taking stuff out of Fraser's cupboards.

He was just so - like, obviously, obviously Kowalski was still up there. Hadn't so much as caught a whiff of him since he stole the Mountie and ran off to the wilderness, but Vecchio could always sort of - feel him, somewhere. Fucking things up. He was just so caught up in the whole not-Miami, not-Chicago thing, lost and wide-eyed and not really thinking, that he barely even noticed Kowalski until this morning, when he'd followed Fraser out of the bedroom and into the bathroom without even a glance at Vecchio on the couch.

Fraser'd gotten the coffee going and told Ray he was sorry, so very sorry he had to do this, "but you must understand, Ray, I didn't know you'd be visiting and promised the Inspector I'd be at the post this morning - " and he bounded out of the cabin without waiting for a response. Ray heard the snowmobile start up and he just sat there, sat there with a stupid blank look on his face and his knuckles going white where he was clutching the handle of his coffee cup and not, not, not thinking about anything at all until Kowalski (Stanley, he thought snidely, Stanley Raymond, with his little punk glasses,) came shuffling into the cabin's main room.

The legs of Ray's chair went thump-thunk, thump-thunk, and the coffee pot hissed and steamed after Kowalski filled his cup and set it back on the stove, and Ray didn't look at him, not even when Kowalski sat his skinny ass on the tabletop, right next to Ray's elbow, waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello," said Kowalski. His voice was ragged, grating. Ray didn't look at him.

He laughed sharply, hopped off the table. "Doesn't work that way, slick," he tossed over his shoulder, working his way back to the counters. "I know you're used to bein' the big man - " Thump-thunk, thump-thunk, That's really quite the spider web, gotta point that out, Benny'll love it " - and havin' everyone fall all over themselves to keep you from freakin' out or whatever - " thump-thunk, thump-thunk, " - but this is mine now, okay?" Thump-thunk, thump- and then Ray had to stop wobbling the chair around, because Kowalski had one hand on the back of it and the other on the table, pushing it back, holding it still. "This is my kitchen, and that is my goddamn coffee mug, and this is my little corner of this giant ice hell, and he is my partner. None of this is about you any more. Okay?"

Ray's eyebrows were somewhere around the middle of his forehead and he was looking dead at Kowalski, mostly because he didn't have any choice. The fucker was close, breathing hot and mad as hell on Vecchio's face. He smelled like toothpaste and hair gel and Ray just wanted him gone, so he sneered a little bit and put a hand flat in the middle of Kowalski's chest and pushed, hard.

Kowalski went stumbling backward into the counter and something in his eyes flashed, really bright, and he sort of bounced off and came back across the little room already swinging, tipped the chair over and was whaling on Vecchio before he even really knew what was going on. Kowalski had his knees on either side of Vecchio's chest, was pressing him down hard into the ladder-back of the chair. Vecchio had his arms up around his head, doing his best to knee Kowalski in the back or something, but the door swung open and Fraser went "Ray!" in an absolutely scandalized voice and they both froze and looked.

Fraser was standing there with his hair all frosted up and mud on his boots. Dief was nosing around his kneecaps and finally Fraser stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Dief shook himself and trotted over to the fireplace, settling in front of it with a soft whuff.

"I thought we had an agreement, Fraser," Kowalski said, pushing himself off Ray. "I thought you wanted him to rediscover his wild nature." Fraser ignored him, crossing the room purposefully to a bookshelf against the far wall. There was a small radio there and Fraser flicked it on, fiddled with the dial and the antenna for a moment, then stepped back.

It was mostly picking up static but here and there a word came through, the announcer's voice tinny and thin. The interference was heavy and the words were garbled but he heard something about a bomb and hundreds of millions and Kowlaski said "Oh, shit," real softly.

"Yes," Fraser replied, and a second after Ray's brain kicked in and he got "national emergencies" and something about Inuvik, then something about Washington and "no word." Fraser said gravely, "We're lucky we were above the treeline," and Ray looked at him for a second, then everything just sort of went black.

-

 

He was having that dream again, the dream where he's still Armando and he's thinking about the pigeon shit he just stepped in, wondering if it's going to ruin his leather-soled shoes as he cruises quick through the hotel lobby and in the corner of his dream-eye he sees Benny popping out from behind a potted plant, only in the dream it's one of those flytrap things - only big, huge, toothy hands the size of horses waving at the end of what he can only think of as arms. Just like he did at the hotel, in the dream he starts walking real fast and ducks into the elevator, leans his head against the icy wall - or was it made of ice, was it just a huge block of the shit? Doesn't matter.

Elevator's dinging and he's rolling again, not thinking about it because it wasn't and it didn't matter, and the hallway's full of snakes and he hides in the jungle of a room and the next time he opens the door, Fraser's there and the hallway turns into an hourglass and the sand is falling everywhere, just everywhere, and Fraser's grinning at him and saying "Ray!"

And the blond kid turns and he grins and says "Nice ta meet ya, Vecchiooo," just like that, stretching out Ray's name like taffy, and he smiles and flicks his tongue and it's forked at the end. That was the part where Ray always woke up. Only sometimes was he screaming.

-

Everything hurt, from the inside, and Fraser was holding him very, very tight. Rocking, a little bit. He could feel Fraser's chest vibrating against his cheek, and when his hearing kicked back in, he fixed hard on Fraser's soft humming, kept his eyes closed and blocked out everything else until it stopped and he felt Fraser's voice in his chest going "Ray?"

He looked up at Fraser and tried to ask what the fuck's going on but all that came out was "Ma..." this tiny, choked moan in a voice that couldn't be his and Fraser's face was crumpling and he was squeezing Ray tight again.

He could only imagine the look Fraser must've shot Kowalski, because after a minute he felt a third hand resting light against his shoulder. "Aw, jeez," Kowalski said, real soft, giving him an awkward little pat. For half a second, he wanted to shrug it off, but it didn't seem important. He started thinking about how he was sitting on the floor with his head in Fraser's lap, Kowalski's hand on his back, and how that was all kinds of weird. They were talking over his head, their voices low and concerned. He felt Fraser's chest rising and falling against his forehead. Kowalski's thumb glided across his shoulderblade.

Fraser's voice was muffled and indistinct, but he sounded upset. Ray wished he wouldn't. Shit, Fraser should be thrilled. Blink of an eye and the whole planet was pretty much his own personal Northwest Territories, not a living soul or a decent tailor within a good couple days' drive. But he sounded sad, and Kowalski sounded sad, and that made him - angry, really angry, because what did they have to be sad about? They, at least, had each other. He didn't have - he had no one.

"Oh," he said into Fraser's stomach. "Oh, wow."

"Ray, it's all right," Fraser said. His hand curved around the back of Ray's neck, calluses (calluses, Ray's brain said, those're new) rough in the soft, short hair there.

"Yeah," he said. He took a breath and pulled back. The long floorboards were smooth and didn't catch on his pants as he slid upright, and he pressed his hands down against them, steadying himself. "I'm okay."

Kowalski was sitting back on his heels and looking real far away and Vecchio didn't like it, even before Kowalski said "Shit, Stella..." real, real soft. One quick, blinding second where the only thing he wanted to do was jump across the room and rip Kowalski's throat out for saying his wife's name in that tone, and then he blinked and looked at the guy and saw that God, Kowalski loved her right after all, loved her maybe even better than Ray did. He caught Kowalski's eye.

Kowalski's gaze went real soft and he said "Listen, I didn't mean - shit, I just..." He shook his head, gave Vecchio a tight smile.

Vecchio felt something vindictive in him go oh, you thought you got to keep her? but he just smiled back and said "Listen, she always... she never talked bad about you, you know?" He cleared his throat, wove his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. Fraser was looking back and forth between them like he didn't even know them. "She thought - "

"Yeah," said Kowalski, cutting him off. His voice was raw, and Vecchio just let it slide, glanced over at Fraser.

For a moment, it was silent. The sunlight slanting through the window hit just at the cuff of Ray's jeans, glinted off the bronze hardware of his boots. They were pretty new, but they gave him blisters. He thought about how the leather would go stained and grey, the rubber soles would harden and crack, and he sighed and it was just so goddamn loud they all looked up, all at once.

-

After a little while Kowalski got up and put on another pot of coffee, warmed water over the stove for Fraser's tea. Vecchio watched him with his back against the couch, knees hugged up against his chest. Fraser had moved to sit at the table and he was drumming the fingers of one hand against the wood. The noise was slow, methodical, and after a moment Ray found himself thinking with the rhythm of it, composing a silly little ditty - *we're stuck, we're stuck, this is all there is, we're stuck.* "Benny," he said suddenly. "Cut it out."

Fraser glanced over, his eyes apologetic. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Ray."

He shook his head. "Nah. You're not disturbing me, Benny." He smiled at Fraser. "I've just, I'm starting to get a headache, is all." Fraser nodded, pressed his palms flat against the tabletop.

Kowalski set a mug down in front of him and Fraser smiled up at him. Vecchio wanted to look away, didn't want to be a part of this. Kowalski had already made it damn clear he wasn't.

The thought came to him, sudden and unbidden; *Where the hell am I going to go?*

"It shouldn't be too difficult," said Fraser, like he was reading his mind or something, "to extend the cabin a bit. As it is I'm concerned it'll feel cramped over time, but if we extend the back wall out another ten feet or so I suspect we can wall off another bedroom and make this space a little larger." Across the table, Kowalski was giving him a look like they weren't going to be extending anything, but Fraser didn't see it. He took a delicate sip of tea, settled the mug back onto the table. "I don't particularly think we should start anything until spring," he said musingly. "It isn't going to do us any good to get started and then have to stop due to inclement weather."

"Benny, look," said Ray tiredly, scrubbing his hands over his scalp. "That's real nice of you but I think I probably need to go - what?"

He'd caught Fraser's eye and the look of - pity? regret? - stopped him, confused him. "Ray," said Fraser, real gently. "There's... nothing to go to, in Chicago."

"Oh," he said quietly. "Right." He thought Fraser was probably wrong - certainly there wasn't nothing there, the city hadn't been replaced by a void, but he got the drift, understood the direction Fraser was trying to take him. Nothing he'd want to go back to.

At length Fraser pushed away from the table, said he was going to feed the dogs. Diefenbaker had perked at the mention of food, and followed Fraser out the door. Quiet settled over the room, and after a minute, Kowalski chuckled softly.

"What?"

"Maybe I was wrong," Kowalski said, real gentle. "Maybe it is still about you."

Vecchio sighed. "Okay, listen, listen," he said. "Obviously this was not the plan. Obviously I would much, much rather go home to my beautiful wife - " and God help him, but he'd almost spit that at Kowalski, " - than spend the rest of my life up here with you, in the freaking - what did you call it again, an ice hell? - all right?" He paused. "All right?"

Kowalski wasn't answering him. Kowalski wasn't even looking at him. He was slouched back in his chair, elbow on the table, running one finger around and around the rim of his coffee mug.

"I mean, if you've got a better suggestion - "

"I don't, all right?" Kowalski said. He shot a dark look at Vecchio. "I wish I did, but I don't."

"It's not like - "

"Yeah, but Fraser's - "

"I never even thought - it's not like we - "

Kowalski was smiling at him. "Yeah," he said. "You never." He picked up his coffee mug, took a long swallow. "But he did."

Vecchio couldn't tell if everything was falling out from under him or if everything was finally making sense but it felt like the world was spinning out of control again. "I'm... sorry," he said, quietly, stupidly. "I just didn't... I mean, I never thought..." He sighed, dropped his head to his knees.

"Yeah," Kowalski said, "I know." The legs of the chair shrieked against the wood floor and footsteps crossed the room, and when Ray looked up, Kowalski was inches away, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"What're you doing?"

"Making the best of it," said Kowalski, and put a hand on his knee.

-

Damned if he knew how he got here but Fraser was holding his face in his hands and Fraser was kissing him and he didn't stop to think it was weird, not even for an instant. His hands were on Fraser's shoulders, which he would've sworn were covered in flannel before, when he'd come through the door and found the two of them on the couch. Under his palms Fraser's skin was warm and soft. Ray pulled back for a second and saw how pale Fraser was in the sunlight and he pushed, moving Fraser out of the light, back against the headboard of the double bed. A breath behind him and he turned, saw Kowalski, kneeling on the edge of the bed, and he must not have looked too surprised or anything because the guy put a hand right in the middle of his chest and pushed, tumbling him awkwardly back against Fraser's chest.

Ray swore and squirmed and felt Fraser's arms's go around him, the Mountie's whisper warm and sweet in his ear, encouraging, and he relaxed. For just a second, Kowalski caught his eye, looked at him all zen and amused. "It's all right," he said. "You're just..."

Ray cleared his throat. "Having the Kowalski experience?"

Kowalski pressed his face to Vecchio's stomach and laughed warmly, and from behind him Fraser slid his hands down Ray's chest, and Ray gave up, moaned and leaned back into Fraser, pushed his fingers into Kowalski's hair.

-

He thinks maybe he's dreaming again. Pretty sure he's had this one before, actually, this dream where Fraser's lips are bright and moist and a little bit swollen and he says "Ray," smile growing across his face, hair falling in his eyes. In the dream Fraser reaches for him and he falls, easy, aiming for the brightness in Fraser's eyes, the dark hair on Fraser's arms soft against his fingers. He's pretty sure the blond kid isn't supposed to be in this dream but there he is, and Ray just goes with it, feels his back arch at lips on the back of his neck, watches a pair of hands not his own slide up Fraser's arms to his face, and that's the part where he knows it's got to be his dream, because just like always he closes his eyes and wishes he could never wake up.

-

He was actually a little too warm. Didn't think it was possible out here, especially while he could hear the wind around the cabin, shaking the roof at the edges, but Ray snuck a leg out from under the comforter. His elbow felt overextended, and he felt Fraser's hip sharp and defined under his palm. There was a hand on his shoulder; blinking a little, he traced it back over Fraser's sleeping form to Kowalski, face down in the pillow. He was drooling on Fraser's shoulder and by the time Ray realized what was going on Kowalski's eyes were open, burning into his. He licked his lips, nervously. It didn't - he thought he should be uncomfortable, should be weirded out or something, but  
then he thought about Fraser with mud on his boots and snow in his hair, and he thought maybe nothing was going to be like it should anymore.

"It can't be like it was," he said, because he couldn't think of a clearer way to put it.

Kowalski had glanced at Fraser, concerned, when Ray'd started speaking, but Fraser hadn't shifted. "Guess not," he replied, flicking his eyes back up to Ray's.

"It'll be... I mean... " He shrugged. It wasn't, it couldn't ever be, but "We can make it. I think we can make it pretty okay."

"We?" said Kowalski, and Ray started to pull his hand off Fraser's hip, stopped himself for some reason. He looked back at Kowalski, tried to keep his gaze steady.

"You got a better idea?"

For a second he was afraid Kowalski was going to say yeah, I do, you can get stuffed, but Fraser made a little noise in his sleep and Ray was forgotten as Kowalski passed a hand over Fraser's hair, tugged the comforter up around his ears. He flicked his eyes up to Vecchio's for a second, then just went face down in the pillow again.

That was that, then. Ray yawned a little, watched the two of them for a second. Neither of them were Stella - God, he was going to miss her - but Kowalski wasn't bad looking, and okay, he had always wanted Fraser. He figured it was just the sort of thing a person had to do after a while. He thought about never going back to the precinct, ever, he thought about never ruining another suit chasing perps down alleys, he thought about a world without traffic. Fraser could hunt, and they could forage for grubs or something, start a little vegetable garden. They'd make it, at least.

Fraser sighed and shifted under his hand and Kowalski mumbled something and Ray laid back down, slowly. Diefenbaker, wild nature apparently be damned, was snoring somewhere just out of sight; Ray hissed his name, and he quieted. Kowalski had an arm around Fraser and his elbow was jabbing into Ray's chest; he nudged at it until Kowalski shifted, let him settle, and he figured they could get it to work. They'd be fine.


End file.
